


Rosy-Fingered Dawn

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Morning Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: Monica wakes up sweet.
Relationships: Monica Reyes/Dana Scully
Kudos: 27





	Rosy-Fingered Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S9  
> A/N: For kittenscully, who gave me the prompt "dawn".

Monica wakes up sweet. Dana shouldn’t be surprised, really. Monica’s got that sunny personality, the kind Dana herself could never manage to fake for more than a week or two. She always rolls out of bed frowsy and squinting, exasperated by the alarm, but Monica greets the day with a lazy grin. 

“Good morning, Dana,” she says, and God, she doesn’t even have morning breath when she rolls closer for a kiss. Dana sighs internally and resists the urge to card her fingers through her hair in the hope of being presentable.

“Good morning,” she says. There’s no baby crying yet. Between late night feeding and the amount of pumping she did yesterday evening, her breasts aren’t too achy yet. When Monica reaches out to cup one through Dana’s pajamas, it feels good instead of irritating. Motherhood is a miracle, of course, and Dana loves William more than she even imagined, but for this moment, to have her body to herself, to feel her body experiencing pleasure, is all too welcome. She shifts her body against Monica’s, kisses her again. Monica’s kisses are gentle and unhurried, despite the fact that the baby could wake up any minute. Her hands move softly over Dana’s body, lingering here and there, tracing Dana’s nipples, the new softness of her belly, the point of her hip. Her fingers pause when they reach the elastic band at the top of Dana’s pajama pants.

“Whatever you’re asking, the answer is yes,” Dana says, and almost winces at herself. It would be the right thing to say to Mulder, but it sounds too ironic for this tender moment. Monica just smiles. She’s always giving Dana grace, much more than Dana thinks she deserves. Monica slips her hands under the waistband of Dana’s pajamas and eases them off Dana’s hips. Her fingers are quiet, Dana thinks. That’s the best way she can describe it. Wherever Monica touches her, pleasure blooms inside her, but Monica’s hands bring calm as well as desire, like a warm bath that rocks Dana’s body gently. She kisses Monica, trying to keep her mouth as easy as Monica’s hands are, as if they have all the time in the world. Monica’s fingers slide lower, finding Dana’s clit. Her touches are light, almost too light, somewhere between teasing and reverent and Dana arches against the pressure. She can’t help it, the way her body yearns toward the touch it craves, but it still feels like a failure on some level: she’s rushing while Monica takes her time. But Monica just kisses her softly and keeps touching her, keeps finding the rhythm that makes Dana’s head whirl. 

It’s an eternity. It’s an hour. It’s five minutes. Dana doesn’t know. She just knows that Monica’s fingers are as inexorable as they are gentle, and that the sun is coming up. The whole room is rosy with dawn light, like Dana’s gazing through her eyelids at something too bright to behold directly, and her body is warm and rosy too, suddenly grasping as as if pleasure is something she could catch and hold inside herself. The aftershocks spread all through her; she trembles as Monica holds her close and kisses her cheeks, her hair, her forehead. 

“As good mornings go, that might be my favorite one,” Dana says when she’s herself again. Again, it isn’t quite right, but it’s closer. She’s closer to being able to talk to Monica in something besides the language of deflection that is her and Mulder’s native tongue. 

“I thought you might like it,” Monica says. “A little moment for yourself before the baby wakes up.” 

“I’d return the favor, but I’m afraid there’s not time,” Dana says, and as if on cue, Will starts crying. 

“Later,” Monica says with a smile. 

Dana tugs her pajama pants up under the covers and slides out of bed. “Promise?” she asks Monica. 

“Promise,” Monica says, her brown eyes sparkling. “I’m not going anywhere, Dana.”

“Good,” Dana says, surprising herself. “I like you right here.” It feels bold to say it outright, that she’s happy, that she enjoys Monica’s company, but it feels right too. 

“I am going to make coffee, though,” Monica says, flipping the covers back. 

“Bless you,” Dana says fervently, and goes to feed her son.


End file.
